


War Machine

by singasongofdestiel



Category: AC/DC, Supernatural
Genre: AC/DC - Freeform, Awkward Boners, Castiel's Birthday, Clubbing, Cowboy Dean, Cowboy Hats, Destiel - Freeform, Drug Use, Ficlet, High Castiel, It's All Gabriel's Fault, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Rock and Roll, Sex Drugs and Rock and Roll, Songfic, Stripper Dean, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Surprises
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-14 00:56:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4543998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/singasongofdestiel/pseuds/singasongofdestiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Castiel's birthday, and he let Gabriel plan his night out. He ends up stuck in some club, high and out of place, so he momentarily escapes outside. But Gabriel has more than that planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	War Machine

Cas knew this was a bad idea.

He had known it was a bad idea before they had left but, as usual, he had let Gabriel talk him into it. “Go to a club” he said, “it’ll be fun” he said. None of his schemes were ever fun, but Castiel still went along each and every time. Maybe he felt his life would be too sheltered otherwise, maybe he had hidden masochistic traits; right now he couldn’t tell—introspection was impossible.

The cocktail of spine-jumping bass and erratic light sequences made him feel sick. Whatever Gabe had slipped into his drink wasn’t helping either. That was another thing he had said would be fun. Castiel wondered if Gabriel knew the definition of fun, mostly it seemed like ‘fun’ was whatever would make you feel the worst. His brother’s kind of fun was **not** how Cas should have chosen to spend his birthday.

The crowd humped the dance floor around him. The waves of movement were slightly out of synch with the music, which was slightly out of synch with the pulse in Cas’ head. He pushed through the sweat and heat to find Gabe grinding against two girls who should have been way out of his league, but that was the magic of alcohol, wasn’t it?

“I’m going outside!” Cas tried to defeat the music, but Gabriel’s unchanged smirk showed he was the one who lost.

Castiel pressed himself against his brother’s writhing body—it was the only way to get close enough to communicate.

“Hey hey Cas, you know that’s illegal—as fine as I am.”

Castiel rolled his eyes and yelled into Gabriel’s ear, “I’m going outside.”

Before he could escape, he felt a hand on his shoulder, “Don’t be too long, the main attraction is about to begin.”

Castiel sincerely doubted that he would find anything Gabriel planned attractive, but he promised anyway.

He was released through the heavy doors into the night; the cool, cool air provided the anti-hit he needed to find his brain. He filled himself with sweet breaths that were uncontaminated by the “party atmosphere”.

He could feel the emotions of those nearby in the colours that infused his lungs: a lime green from the excited ravers; a deep vermilion from the private lounges upstairs; a full spectrum from those sleeping in the buildings surrounding the club. He himself was a sliding grey-blue that was now permeated with everyone else’s colours. A thick bronze saturated into his periphery, a rusty shine that looked impenetrable but ever so elegant in the light.

Slowly Castiel became aware of the source of this colour. A man was watching him, leaning against the rough bricks.

When he realised he had been noticed, the man spoke up.

“Are you alright there?”

Castiel was more than alright. He was ecstatic at having found the owner of such a heady shade. He nodded and grinned, he wanted to share his discovery.

“I can feel—” No, that would be too crazy. “You’re so— beautiful. Gorgeous.”

The other man quirked his eyebrows. He lit the cigarette in his mouth, offered it to Cas. The gift made Castiel feel blessed.

“You are so lovely, so shiny.”

The stranger chuckled. “And you’re high as a kite.”

He shifted so languidly that Castiel could see each frame of the motion.

The beautiful man scuffed his foot against the wall and chewed his lip in indecision.

“I have somewhere to be, but I’m going to make sure you’re okay first.”

“Oh, I’m more than okay.”

“I can see that.” The eyebrows raised again—Cas would have to train his eyebrows to do that, maybe they could form an eyebrow circus together. He told this to his inspiration, who slid his back down the wall to a crouching position and shook his head.

Cas carefully made his way to join him on the floor. This made their heads level, the shadows of the alley expunged by their proximity. It was so odd, he thought, that this man should have those clear green eyes when he gave off such a depth of autumn tones. Cas wondered what made him shine; no one else that he could feel was shiny. Castiel didn’t want the other man to laugh at him again, so he didn’t say any of this—just sat in silence.

After a while, he forgot he had wanted to say it, and the colours evaporated into the air they came from. His head started to ring, and he tried to whistle in tune with it.

When he stopped whistling— because his lips were dry— his companion stood up. From the acute angle, the man seemed even taller.

“I really do have to go now. Take care of yourself, d’you hear?”

The other man indicated a pretty blonde eyeing Castiel inquisitively, “And make sure you catch her name.” Cas thought it was best to nod, rather than explain his preferences. The stranger winked and was gone.

Once some time had passed (he had no way of telling how much), he returned to the noise indoors and got himself a glass of water. Through some strange magic, he was immediately found by Gabriel, who shunted him roughly towards the stage.

To be honest, he wasn’t in the mood. He could feel the edge of his comedown, and wanted to be safe in bed before he met that wall. Gabriel had found some pretty strong stuff, if his surreal experience was anything to go by, and that meant a nasty finale. But his brother stood behind him, making sure he watched the upcoming spectacle.

“Sit here, I called in some favours for you.” Despite his protests, Cas found himself forced into a seat a few strides from the edge of the stage.

The music cut off suddenly, changed to a low guitar riff that suited Castiel much better. A disembodied growl addressed the crowd.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen and those who defy the gender-binary, we have what you have all been waiting for.”

The expectancy that singed the atmosphere made it clear that Castiel was the only one not informed of what it was he had been waiting for.

“He’s more than a man, and he’s here for you tonight—it’s the War Machine!”

Ah, it was a strip club, then. At least Gabe had got the gender correct, if nothing else about the night. The guitar increased in urgency, bursting right as a gimmicky shower of sparks revealed the silhouette of a man in a full black-leather cowboy outfit, from hat to steel spurs to tacky poncho.

The poncho was the first to go, dropped to the floor in a manner that encouraged the shedding of all morals.

Okay, this was a little bit like fun.

The man on stage suddenly spun around, bright lights illuminating a pose straight off the cover of a low-quality Western ebook. A prop gun was used to push the hat back and the crowd’s excitement finally infiltrated Castiel as the face underneath became visible. He wasn’t high enough to feel that glorious bronze anymore, but the beauty of it remained evident.

The black shirt was skilfully freed from underneath the waistcoat as the cowboy made his way down stage. Muscles rippled along tanned arms, highlighting the athleticism required for his dance moves. The crowd’s frenetic screams peaked at the chorus of the song, but here the dancer paused.

Green eyes dripped sultry as his gaze fell to the spot where Cas was sat. Castiel knew he must have been the only one who detected the wry twitch of recognition which splintered through the practiced performance face.

Deliberate steps were made in his direction as a lasso was unwound from the brass-buckled belt. The man swung the rope above his head a few times, a lazy perfection that made Cas speed up and slow down simultaneously. A seemingly casual throw led the rope to land loosely around Castiel’s arms. _Gabriel and his favours_.

The performer slid along the lasso, dropping off the edge of the stage to stand before the birthday boy.

A grin and a just audible comment snuck through the electric chords.

“Looks like you’re really getting an experience tonight.”

Cas couldn’t be sure, but as the hips just above him undulated in a crude imitation of riding, he thought he could hear a slight chuckle.

The cowboy on his lap slowly peeled off his waistcoat, running a tongue luridly along the tips of his teeth. Castiel could have licked the sweat off the stranger’s chest, he was so close. An explicit thrill ran through Castiel along with this thought and he was forced to shift his sitting position to preserve any shred of modesty.

The number continued back onto the stage until the cowboy’s trousers were at last relinquished, but Cas could only hold his awkward position.

There was so much he wanted to do to that man. His burnished bronze lit Castiel’s veins with all that people searched for in alcohol and drugs and strip clubs.

As soon as the song faded out and he was able to extricate himself from Gabriel’s petulant whines that this was only the beginning of the fun, Castiel dashed for the exit. He had to get home so that he could deal with himself.

Bursting into the complacent night again, he collided with the origin of his problem.

He panicked as he picked himself off the floor—not only had his fall enhanced the urgency of his little ‘issue’ with the knowledge of just how solid dancing muscles actually were, but it had also fully exposed it to the owner of those muscles.

Embarrassment flayed each second before the obstacle spoke.

“Enjoyed the show then?”

Cas dared to catch that same sharp twist in the corner of the mouth as earlier, but then dropped his gaze to his feet. He said nothing.

The other man stepped closer, gloating in his gracefulness.

“I would never normally do this, but— you interest me.”

Tongue laced ear lobe. “Plus, it’s your birthday.”

Castiel raised his eyes and met a challenge in the green ones opposite him. The stare down overscored a harsh kiss, where teeth teased lips and tongue and skin.

When they broke apart and Cas felt permitted to blink, the other man introduced himself.

“I’m Dean, and I think I have some unfinished business to attend to— if you would let me.” A hand slipped below belt level indicated exactly what business was being referred to. Cas paused, struck with shame.

Those eyebrows taunted Castiel with their arched smugness. A smugness which he knew exactly how to remove, if he followed this through.

Dean was coaxing him with staggered kisses and then— “I’ll even wear the hat.”

Maybe tonight hadn’t been such a bad idea.


End file.
